Promised Goodbye
by Dimension Kayt
Summary: He had promised to see her after the battle and annoying as it was, his death wasn't going to stand in his way. Oneshot, RikashxDaine


I'm dead.

It was a statement of fact, he knew. The cries of Barzha and Hebakh had faded quite some time ago along with the uncomfortable feeling of the boulder that had killed him. He still hadn't moved; not from pain, as that had also disappeared, but just for lack of want, of reason. There wasn't anything to _do_. He couldn't fight Ozorne, or even any of the other immortals that had allied themselves with the emperor-turned-Stormwing, couldn't tease the humans.

Couldn't say goodbye.

Goodbye. He had never actually spoken the word. Still, he had said – _something_. What had he said? It seemed like it was years ago that he had been perched on the rail of that Yamani ship talking to her.

Maybe it had been, he certainly had no way of telling time. Maybe by now she had married the stork-man and had a stork-baby. Or maybe it had only been half a second, and she was still calling his name, screaming it in the hope that her words alone could undo what had happened.

But what had _he_ said to _her_?

_I _think_, if I'm careful, I can at least keep one of his braids for you. I'll try, anyway._

No, that was before…

_I'll see you both when the dust settles in two days._

That was it, a promise. But it had never happened.

He felt uncharacteristically pensive. Maybe this was what happened when an immortal died: they got to lie around and reflect on inane things, such as the last-goodbye-that-never-happened.

He was being unfair. He owed Maura a goodbye just as much as he owed_ that girl_ one, he owed a goodbye – a formal sort, probably – to Barzha and Hebakh. And because he _had_ mentioned the two of them, he supposed he should see the stork-man as well, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care about any of the others.

Fine, then. It was best to just get this over with, and then go back to peacefully resting, or being dead, whatever the case may be. Opening his eyes, he found that he was, in fact, still on that deadly boulder; he could still see traces of his own silvery blood shining in the light.

_That_, however, was out of place: looking up at the sky, he saw that it was darkening, the sun almost completely below the horizon, and yet another light was almost directly overhead. Its light was concentrated directly where he lay, but it was too warm, too bright, too close to be comfortable. He wondered if it led to the Immortal's version of the Peaceful Realms, but decided to ignore it for the time being: he had things to do.

Spreading his wings, he managed to clumsily take off and observed the battlefield. It was obvious that some time had passed: his blood had been dry on the rock, and there was a conspicuous absence of murderous immortals. Instead, the ground was littered with the corpses of Stormwings, winged apes, and humans from both sides. The bloody smell of death permeated everything, but he paid no attention to it.

As he flew, he noted another change: he was transparent and could see the earth through his claws, although it was a hazy view. He also didn't seem to be quite solid; there was a strong wind that wasn't affecting his flight at all.

He flew to Port Legann's highest watchtower – how he knew she would be there was a mystery, but he knew it nonetheless – and wondered vaguely if she would even be able to see him. He looked over his shoulder as he approached; the light was apparently following him. "Not yet," he told it in annoyance. It stopped moving, rays of light twinkling, and he had the feeling that if it could make noise, it would be laughing.

He found her on top, alone without even the animals that came to her more readily than a Stormwing to battle. She was leaning against the wall, watching seagulls in the distance fly in circles.

She didn't move when he landed on the wall beside her, even though his talons screeched when they came in contact with the stone. Maybe she _couldn't_ hear him after all.

"You're _ignoring_ me," he drawled, causing to her jump and turn pale – scratch that idea of her not being able to hear him. "And here I thought you might have missed me."

She was still staring but had recovered a bit, and looked like she half wanted to hug him, steel feathers and all. "I _mourn_…" he continued, shaking his head so the bones tied to his blond braids clacked together. He wondered if she could hear them; this whole business of being dead was starting to get a bit annoying, not knowing if someone could see or hear you, and trying to figure out when they could.

"Rikash?" she sounded almost disbelieving when she finally spoke. That was understandable. "But I saw you die."

"It hurt, by the way," he informed her, meeting her blue-gray eyes with his own green ones. "I don't recommend it."

He heard the stork-man coming up the stairs – just like how he had known where to find _her_, he knew who was coming – and decided to finish quickly, before he could be interrupted. "I told you I'd see you again. And we both know how much I would _hate_ to be _rude_ and break my promise," he sighed in false dismay.

"But…"

The stork-man had almost reached the top now, time was running out and he had to act fast. He leaned closer, so that his mouth was inches away from her ear. "Goodbye, Daine."

She was silent, but he didn't care. He turned away and took off, angling toward the light she couldn't see. If he had looked back, he would have seen that she was crying, tears leaving wet trails down her cheeks and being blown off her chin by the wind.

"Daine? What happened?"

She turned away before she saw Rikash disappear and buried her face in Numair's shirt, sobbing. Her words were trying to get out all at once, but they caught in her throat as they had with Rikash and only one was audible:

"Goodbye."


End file.
